


Pretty Girls

by WinterRoseQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:30:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRoseQueen/pseuds/WinterRoseQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A courtship of this kind is dangerous, but Margaery can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Girls

"Margaery Tyrell, what do you think you're doing?" Olenna asked cooly, sharply.

"I don't know what you mean," the girl in question told her innocently.

"You know exactly what I mean." Her eyes narrowed slightly, accentuating the creases that marked her wisdom. Margaery gave a delicate shrug, prompting her grandmother to elaborate. 

"Concerning Sansa Stark," she clarified with a sigh. "and your clear intention for something more than friendship."

"I like her," Margaery said simply. "No harm will come of it."

"You know exactly how these tendencies are regarded," Olenna chided.

"You say nothing to Loras!" Margaery pointed out indignantly.

"Loras isn't on the verge of becoming queen," Olenna replied.

"There is no chance of being with child, no proof of losing my maidenhead. I can be subtle." Margaery told her. "Affection will not ruin me." Olenna raised an eyebrow, silently reminding her of other more damaging relations. She ignored the challenge. "No harm will come of it," she repeated.

 

\|/|\|/

 

Sansa couldn't chase the words from her mind. Pretty girls. _Pretty girls._ Said so casually, yet pointedly. Her eyes drifted to the rose lying on her bed. For some reason she felt it was special, like it held some hidden meaning by the way Margaery smiled. Like there was some little secret that entertained only her.

There was something so different about the older girl, so unreal and mysterious, in the way that she was so effortlessly perfect. Sansa picked up the red-tipped bloom, mindful of the thorns. It was a curious thing, how such a delicate beauty was capable of drawing blood. Sansa knew that she should be wary of how easily Margaery had enchanted her, but in her was all she wanted.


End file.
